Attitude Adjustment
by Visionairy
Summary: Sometimes an attitude is the only thing you can change. Spoilers thru 4.10. Happy Thanksgiving.


Attitude Adjustment

by Visionairy

The fields were a blur of green and brown as the Impala flew down the dusty gravel road. The low cloud cover made the day gloomy and cool, so much so that the windows were rolled up and the heater was going in the large car, pushing out a musty smell. The rain had moved through earlier in the morning, leaving mud puddles that covered the depth of the potholes littering the road.

Between the weather, the mud, and the silence that permeated the car, Sam's mood was miserable. He didn't think he could feel much worse then the time that he'd described to Dean - when he was alone, drunk and practically suicidal after his brother had been dragged bloody and screaming down to Hell.

But he was wrong. And wrong didn't begin to cover it. It had been seven days since Dean had sat at the side of the road and finally told him something about his time in Hell. Sam still couldn't get his head around it. He felt like crap knowing how his brother felt, how he was struggling to live with such overwhelming guilt. The agonizing situation Dean had been in tore him up. And to add to that, he knew that it was just a fraction of how low his brother truly felt.

Sam knew his brother, better than anyone - ever, and he believed – no, he _knew_ without a shadow of a doubt that Dean had done all he could, all anybody could do to fight the evil downstairs, to stay strong in the face of unending pain and desperation - completely removed from love and hope and trust, all the things that make a person strong. He was absolutely certain that he would have done no better, and would have caved a lot sooner than his hero - his big brother.

He didn't feel much more hope for himself either, fear resurfacing that he was bound for the same place Dean had recently vacated. Hadn't Uriel as much as told him so? He knew that his tainted blood would likely result in his own damnation, but that was all ethereal, a hypothetical place with no detail. Now that he knew more of the specifics of what hell could be, he was downright horrified. Not just for himself, but for his brother who had been told by those same angels that he could be returned there at the flick of a finger.

Yes, their lives sucked. Sam's head dropped even further. And not just their current lives, but their afterlives, if there were such a thing. They didn't look any more promising. An eternity of suckiness. That just … sucked.

He looked over at his brother as he stared off in front of him, no emotion showing on his face. If only …

He glanced back out the window. Okay. No more. No freaking more.

They may not be able to control how their lives had changed over the past six months, but they could sure as hell refuse to lose what they had now to it as well. His brother was back. Dean was back -- and sitting right in the car next to him! How could he ever take that for granted again. And he, miraculously, was also alive to share this time with him. That was what they needed to focus on.

Sam reached his long arm over the back seat and stretched. After a few seconds, his fingertips brushed the box he was reaching for. Stretching just a bit more, he was able to snag it and bring the precariously balanced contents over the seat and onto his lap.

Dean's face finally turned toward his brother, "What are you messing with back there. Hey, you better be careful with those, I mean it."

Sam continued to rifle through the contents of the box. Picking the one he decided most fit his new, determinedly upbeat mood. He held it briefly up for Dean's perusal before pushing it into the cassette deck and turning on the music.

A few minutes passed as they both enjoyed the fond memories the song brought out. And once Sam was able to turn his forced good mood into a more heartfelt one, he turned to his brother. "This is it, I'm calling a do-over."

"What?" Dean turned to face to his sibling.

"A do-over. The last year and a half, it didn't happen. I'm good, you're good. We're on the road – together," he couldn't help it if a little too much inflection came out on that last word, "…saving people, hunting things."

Dean smirked, willing to go along for now, "What are you, seven? You can't just call a do-over."

Sam's lips quirked up as he stared down his brother, "Yes I can, we're just going to keep doing what we're doing, find that evil son of a bitch Lilith and kill her."

"A do-over, huh?" Dean's chin tipped up. This _**was**_ worth considering. After all. Winchesters were nothing if they couldn't deal some heavy denial. And hell yes, it would help.

"Yep," Sam insisted.

"None of this crap happened?"

"Nope."

"We're both good – just saving people, hunting things?"

"You got it."

Dean paused, his forehead creasing as he considered Sam's new reality. They'd still have to deal with Castiel and his pit bull, their demon shadow, threats from both angels and demons, and Sam's freaky powers, … but what the hell. It could still be good. "Okay."

"Okay?," Sam watched his brother's expression to gauge his sincerity.

"Yes, Sam," Dean spun his hand to suggest his brother keep up with the program. "I said okay. Okay?"

Sam just smiled, a real honest-to-goodness dimples and all smile, as he twisted back into his seat and reached over to turn up the volume. He felt good, even if the sun hadn't just broken through the clouds and shone straight down upon the shiny hood of wet black steel flying down the road. You just had to remember what there was in life to be thankful for. And Sam nodded his head in satisfaction, "Okay."

The End

* * *

Well I needed to write this after that heartrending 4.10 ending.

And with (US) Thanksgiving coming up, and during these times, I like to think about what I'm thankful for. (Shallowly, that would have to include reviews.) And I'm also thankful for all the fantastic stories I get to read from all the wonderful Supernatural authors out there. Thx!


End file.
